


The Anatomy of the Perfect Friend

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bed Cuddles, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Spoilers for 4x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: After the events of 4x04, Fitz's worries are keeping him up at night. Jemma is happy to put them to rest.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fitzsimmonsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzsimmonsy/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Maggie! I hope you enjoy this tribute to your great talent at being a friend and fostering friendships within the fandom. <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Companion gifset](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com/post/152048604107) by [omgfitzsimmons](http://omgfitzsimmons.tumblr.com)!

Jemma could tell, right from the moment she emerged from the bathroom and reentered the bedroom, that something was very wrong. Their bed, which had cradled a sleeping Fitz just minutes before, now stood empty. 

Her heart raced for a few seconds before her eyes adjusted to the dark. As the room came into focus, there he was, standing in the corner. She breathed a sigh of relief and was behind him in a moment, sliding her hands over his stomach and placing a kiss on his shoulder blade. Fitz's height made him a lot better at this, but she did well enough that when he turned around to face her, she could easily brush a thumb over the stubble on his cheek and lead him back to bed. Things never felt quite right these days until she could feel his warmth beside her. Or around her, as it was now, with her head on his chest and his arm keeping her close.  

"Bad dream?"

She could feel the shudder that escaped with his sigh.

"Bad friend."

Jemma knitted her eyebrows together. "Excuse me?" 

He shrugged. "I'm a bad friend, Jemma."

She had to raise her head to look at him, coming only inches from his lips and reminding herself to stay on task. 

"What are you going on about?"

It was the way he didn't meet her eyes that made her realize just what he'd been looking at in the corner: a sculpture, or something like it, made by someone testing out new powers.

"Daisy."

Daisy was back on the base now, and even Jemma was willing to admit that it felt strange. Do all prodigal daughters evoke feelings like these? There seemed no way to describe it except to say it made her uneasy.

"I yelled at her," said Fitz. "The first time I saw her in months, and I yelled at her. It's no wonder she didn't want to come back."

"Fitz—"

"And now you have to lie for me! I've ruined everything!" 

It was the pain in his eyes that did her in, stirring something in her heart that banished any notions of sleep.

"Fitz," she admonished, raising herself up so she towered over him, "that is a flawed conclusion. It's contradicted by a great deal of evidence."

Fitz only frowned beneath her, folding his arms. "What evidence?"

Jemma almost rolled her eyes at him. What evidence? She could fill a book with it. She could list a reason with every letter of the alphabet. But as she took in his long, fluttering eyelashes, she thought of a different way to explain it. 

"Well," she said, "first, there's your head."

He blinked at her in silent confusion before she lowered herself to kiss him gently on the temple. "You are a good friend," she said with a grin, "because your head is full of such good advice."

 "Jemma, wha—?"

"And then there's your eyes," she said, dropping a kiss on each eyelid. "Always happy to see me." She held his gaze, and soon found victory in the way his muscles relaxed. But she wasn't done yet.

"Jemma."

"Your ears," she continued, stroking his earlobe with her thumb before blessing it with her lips, "always ready to listen to my wonderful ideas." His mouth quirked up to a smile, which she returned briefly before adjusting her position.

"Your shoulder, perfect for leaning on." She kissed that, too, then returned to her favorite position on his chest. "Really Fitz," she said, "what more could anyone ask for?"

It was his breathing that made a smile creep across her face; this rhythm meant he was at peace.

"Okay," he said, "but what about, what about . . . feet?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, knowing he wouldn't see it, knowing he would know she did it anyway. Fitz tangled his legs with hers and tapped at her heel with his toe. "Your feet are perfect for, um . . ." He cleared his throat. "For standing by my side." 

He groaned at his own joke, and she couldn't hold back her chuckle. After a few beats of silence, she nudged him with her head.

"Go on."

"Okay," he said, "well, there's your hands." He pulled her hand off his chest and entwined her fingers with his. "You help so many people with these hands." He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed every finger in turn, stopping only when her whole body shook with laughter.

"What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing! It's just . . ." She reclaimed her hand to point a finger in the center of his chest. "Your heart. The best part of you, really."

"Oh?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "Is that why you like to stay so close?"

"I like to stay close to _you_ ," she clarified. "As would anyone with sense. Luckily for the both of us, I have plenty."

She hoped her bravado would be enough to draw a chuckle from his throat, but as she settled into him, he stayed still.

"You still have to lie for me."

She fisted his shirt. "I have to lie for Daisy, too. At least you tried to keep me out of it as long as you could. Looking out for me, as you always do."

He drew his free arm around her until she was swallowed up in him. "Still. Jemma, I—"

"You'll help me, won't you?" She tried to keep her voice light, ignoring the anxiety building in her chest. "Find a way to beat the lie detector?"

Fitz took in a deep breath. "Yeah, of course I will." She felt his fingers card through her hair. "We'll figure something out."

"Well, then," she said, "I don't know what you're so worried about. And Daisy will come around, Fitz. You'll see."

He'd never understand how noble he was, this man who insisted on loving people long after they left him. She  knew more than most.

Something about the warmth of his body and the coolness of his breath overwhelmed her, not for the first time, with the heady realization that she really, finally, had him all to herself. A younger, more foolish version of herself would take his proximity for granted, but she never would. She let herself melt into him, remembering the look he gave her the first time she thought she was going to die and the sight of him when he brought her back from the dead. There were so many moments, really, each infused into the years where she had the privilege of knowing him. Her eyes grew heavy as she discovered that counting Fitz's acts of kindness was far more effective than counting sheep. 

"Fitz," she yawned, tracing a lazy pattern over his shirt, "you really are the best friend I've ever had. Or ever will have."

She felt him drop a kiss into her hair. "I feel the same way."

Words flooded over the tip of her tongue and disappeared like mist, her thoughts too distorted by sleep. As she drifted off, she was simply aware of him and the need to be with him. She breathed in his scent, perfectly sated, and fell asleep. 


End file.
